


Golden Hour

by Snowpiercer



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 09:47:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22714090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowpiercer/pseuds/Snowpiercer
Summary: February 14, 1946.The first Valentine's Day to fall in peacetime for 6 years.
Relationships: Collins/Farrier (Dunkirk)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Golden Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ok !! So if you see a valentine's day collection floating around on ao3 with dunkirk fics, just know this is meant to be part of it but I did not read the due date that @brookeluvsdogs set for it, and I assumed it would be at the end of Valentine's Day (which it was not, it was a day before) so brooke not calling u out or anything but...  
> So this is my submission for it, which I'm posting separately.
> 
> Note- If you read my main fic "Afternoon", this is not a direct piece from it, it will be different in Afternoon, this was just me experimenting.

The war was over.

Farrier was back in England after being stuck in a camp for almost 5 straight years. He was back with his Collins, who not once took so much as a glance at anyone else, who waited patiently and never gave up hope that Farrier would return home.

“It’s like I don’t know what to do with myself now,” Farrier laughed. It was unbelievable coming home after so long to see his partner was still there waiting. Being in the camps could have been worse, even if he was separated from his loved ones and felt immense guilt for not being able to come to his country’s aid. He’d heard much of the Italian and Japanese camps, and all things considered, his captors weren’t that unfriendly, even if Farrier knew it was mainly because they were trying to gain his trust to get information out of him.

“I know, I feel the same. No war, no sorties, just… Peace. And you,” Collins replied.

He’d grown up so much in the war, so much while Farrier was gone. He wasn’t the same young man Farrier had first met, he was older, wiser, and his eyes held that look that all veterans’ eyes did. The look about them that swam with all that they’d seen happen, all they’d done. Farrier was still struggling to look at Collins and apply the word ‘war veteran’ to him. Then again, he had to look at himself and apply the same phrase.

“It’s a restless feeling,” Farrier said.

“Mm. Silence isn’t peaceful, it’s like yer waiting for something to happen.”

They were sitting on a bench in Putney Heath. It was late afternoon, the sky had tiny clouds dotting the blue and there was a soft wind blowing. It had been a cold day and the heat was still declining, both of them had their hands shoved deep in their pockets as they sat and talked.

“Shall we walk?” Farrier asked, he got a vague nod in response. It was Valentine’s Day, though neither of them had acknowledged it yet, it was strange enough that two men were alone together, mentions of such a holiday felt terrifying, even though it was hardly the worst thing the two had ever done.

The wind blew around them as they walked through the park, half frozen leaves crunching under their shoes, the odd bird flying around above their heads, up in the sky where the men would always feel they belonged.

“Funny looking now, the heath,” Farrier said. He was referencing the Victory Garden which had been pulled up recently, patches of soil where fresh produce grew not too long ago to help the country along.

“Ye, with all the rain we get it’ll be back to green in no time,” Collins smiled. They bumped shoulders as they walked, and the two exchanged a nervous smile.

“You look so healthy,” Farrier smiled. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he’d gotten back, Collins looked older, wiser, but healthy. The blonde wished he could say it back, but in truth Farrier was still recovering from his time in the camp. He’d been fed, yes, but not much. He was thinner than Collins remembered him, his skin didn’t have that golden tinge it once did, and those beautiful eyes had lost their sparkle, the first time Collins looked at them when the man had gotten back, it scared him. All things considered, Farrier was getting better, the sparkle was returning, he smiled more, he seemed to be settling back into his life before he was taken prisoner.

“So no-one special then?” he asked out of the blue.

“What?”

“I half thought I’d get back and you’d have found some other lad. Or, you’d have done what you felt like you aught to, found a lass and settled down.”

“I could never do either of those things, Farrier,” Collins smiled.

“I was waiting for you.”

Farrier so wished he could throw an arm around Collins, pull him in. Instead he brushed their coated arms together as the tips of his mouth turned upwards in a shy smile.

“Did you?” Collins asked.

“’Course not.”

Through miles and many, many, many months, they’d both waited for each other, both held onto hope.

There had been many an escape plan hatched from within the confines of that camp, but none Farrier partook in. The risk outweighed the benefit, in the end it was safer just to sit and wait, considering how many prisoners who did actually escape, and considering the even smaller amount who weren’t executed because of their efforts. He shook the thought and tried to focus on the moment. They were out of the heath now, walking through the suburbs. He looked at the houses around him. They looked awful. He supposed when it was wartime you didn’t bother to water your flowers every day and repaint your house once it started chipping.

“These are the good ones,” Collins remarked. Farrier wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant, but even so he kept walking along with his partner. As they walked the wind began to carry tiny droplets of water through it, not enough for it to be rain, but enough that Collins made some comment on it and how they should get on a train instead of walk.

“I thought you loved rain, pet.”

“I do, but you don’t,” Collins said. Farrier shook his head and smiled.

“It’s not like we’re going anywhere in a hurry. Save the money, let’s walk.”

Farrier’s hands fidgeted in his pockets, Collins noticed and hoped he wasn’t nervous, not that there was a reason to be. The blonde realised he was being stupid when he realised that he too was fidgeting in his pockets, though he had reason to. There was something in one that he was going to give to Farrier. He had to, he refused to wait any longer. Valentine’s Day was as good as any. They reached the Thames soon after that, and crossed the bridge over it.

“Saw a Heinkel go down in there,” Collins said, pointing along the river to the east.

“Crew?”

“Nope. I guess they went down with her.”

The two were quiet after that, Collins not entirely realising that the sentence was even going to come out of him before it had. He could still see it if he looked over, vision flashing back to how he’d seen it from the air. He shook himself of the memory and hummed, Farrier hummed back and even that was comforting. Once they’d crossed the expanse of water under the bridge, they began to get to the ‘bad houses’ as Collins had dubbed it. The thing was, there weren’t houses there anymore, just huge piles of bricks and rubble. There were some still intact, dotted seemingly randomly throughout the streets, and seeing them standing alone was heartbreaking.

“I should have been here,” Farrier said sternly.

“You saved an entire beach. One man would not have turned the tide of the Battle of Britain, but you saved those men at Dunkirk Farrier,” Collins said in just as stern a voice.

“How do you know where I was?”

“I asked around.”

“Asked for what?”

“I asked if anyone had seen a Spitfire by itself near the shore, and I was told that there was one, that there was no engine sound, and that it saved the entire beach from being divebombed. I was also told that after the fact, it glided away.”

“Who on earth told you all this?” Farrier asked as they walked.

“The soldiers, Farrier. They all saw you, I spoke to quite a few of them to piece the story together, had enough time on the train back to base,” Collins replied.

“So I have to assume you bailed and got taken then?”

“I didn’t bail.”

“You landed her?”

“Right on the sand. Shot my flare into the cockpit, save anyone else getting their hands on a Spit,” Farrier said. Collins didn’t want to think about the events that had led to him returning to the airbase without Farrier that day, so he tried to steer the conversation away.

“Well, I’m glad to have you back.”

“You know I’m glad I’m back too. With you,” Farrier smiled.

They walked through the streets, the clouds somewhat dissipating above them. Soon enough they had reached the heart of the city.

“I’m glad there’s so much effort to rebuild,” Farrier said.

“Ye, well there’s nothing else to do, is there?”

“Guess not.”

They walked silently a little more, and Collins was beginning to realise how little people there were on the streets. He expected more out since it was a holiday, but he supposed it wasn’t a particularly pleasant day in most peoples’ eyes, that and the general populous hadn’t seemed to break away from their wartime behaviour yet, being out on the streets still felt unsafe for most. It didn’t to Collins, though he recognised the fact that if a bomb fell he wouldn’t survive it, one’s feet planted firmly on the ground with nooks and crannies and alleyways all around to hide in felt a world safer than being strapped into a tiny cockpit with a view of the ground many miles below. It certainly felt safer down here, but that didn’t mean Collins didn’t still have a mad love for flight, one that all pilots shared.

“God I wish I could touch you,” Farrier mumbled. When Collins had been looking around, Farrier had been looking at him. Th blonde turned then and smiled.

“I wish so too, but ye know it isn’t safe.”

“I know,” Farrier said.

Time went by but neither noticed, it was still only just believable that they were in each other’s presence after so many years apart. It was still like a dream for one to look at the other, that they were there, alive and right next to them. Farrier was only alerted to how long they’d been walking by the fact that Collins’ hair was turning that special shade of gold it did when the late sun hit it just right, and he faltered. What on earth had he done to deserve this man? Farrier had never felt like he deserved Collins, not at first, not now all these years later. But, he knew Collins felt the same way, for whatever reason.

“That time already!” the blonde exclaimed, looking at his watch.

“That’s the same watch you had in ’38.”

“Yeah, lasted well didn’t it?”

“Sure did,” Farrier said, wondering where in Germany his watch was, probably around the officer who’d confiscated it, if he was alive.

They’d reached Trafalgar Square and continued onto The Strand, where Farrier knew was Collins’ favourite place in London. It was easy to see why with such well preserved old buildings, and luckily a lot of it had been missed by the bombs.

“Ah, The Strand in golden hour, my favourite place and time to be in London,” Collins remarked.

“This is your favourite time of day?”

“Not everywhere, but it’s especially beautiful here, so in the Big Smoke, yes.”

Now that Farrier took the time to look around he realised his partner was right. The older pilot was never one for observing buildings and things of beauty around him, he was a much more practical person and didn’t even think to do such things, until Collins would remind him.

“Strange seeing it so quiet,” Farrier remarked. They hadn’t been back into central London since VE Day, when the streets were bursting at the seams with celebration. Collins hummed in agreement as he continued to fiddle in his pocket. It was a ring. He’d always kept scraps of the first salvageable Spitfire he crashed, but one day the idea occurred to him to have one of the pieces of metal made into something. A trip to the jeweller paired with an embarrassed lie about a plump girlfriend to make up for the ring size, and he had it made. It was a guess, but considering Farrier had lost weight, the blonde thought it was more likely than not going to fit, at least enough.

Farrier had this funny look in his eye now, it was something between hope and calmness. Collins was glad to see that look on his face, worry lines not so deep for once. Being pulled into the alley on his right by the arm was very unexpected and somewhat jarring, Collins still worried it could be seen as strange. Farrier was crowding him against a wall now, not in any way that suggested he wanted to _do_ something, almost in a way that made Collins worry he was about to be told some bad news.

“I just… I have to do this now, I’ve been carrying it around for far too fucking long.”

That alarmed Collins, was he trying to end it? Why was he always so ominous about-

And then Farrier brought a ring out from his pocket. It was thin and silver and beautiful, and for a moment all Collins could do was stare at it.

“Marry me.”

The look of absolution in Farrier’s eyes was so clear as he looked at Collins, watched as those baby blues were taken by surprise, but then another emotion joined, and Farrier couldn’t place it. It began to worry him, of what the blonde’s answer might be. Farrier froze when Collins too got a ring out of his pocket.

“If you marry me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all sm for reading, it means a lot to me!!  
> Also i was projecting my entire self onto Collins when i said his favourite time to be in London is at golden hour, and that his favourite part of the city is The Strand. I am not sorry.  
> [ my tumblr ](https://s-n-o-w-p-i-e-r-c-e-r.tumblr.com)


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